Chapter 10 ~ Alexander
I slam her studio door closed and cross the hall, going into my bedroom, slamming my door behind me. I turn to the dresser and wipe it clean. The sound of everything spilling and splintering on the floor is only a dull echo of the rage coursing through my veins right now.
She knows how to wield her words when she chooses to use them.
I can feel the slice burn deep as she refused to look at me and blamed me for her battered body.
I do not beat or abuse women. The only marks I leave on a woman’s tender flesh are the ones they ask me for.
I look up at the ceiling, choking back the scream I want to release.
I am at fault in a perverse sort of way for the marks on her body, but outright abuse did not put them there. They resulted from situations that always lead us down the same fucken highway.
I kick the mess on the floor out of my way and sit on my bed, putting my head in my hands as I grip my hair. Her never-ending cycle of silence drives me insane, as does my craving for her to yield as we dance across this battleground.
Neither of us emerged unscathed.
I roll back onto the bed and rub my hands across my face.
When she pushes back, I can’t stop the words that come out of my mouth.
She watched me just now with those sad, innocent green eyes, and it kills me.
Last night, when she looked at me, REALLY, looked at me.
I knew she saw more to me than most people ever could, and I wanted her to keep seeing me like that.
I wanted her last night in a way I still don’t understand.
I thought we moved forward. I gave her more last night than I’ve given any human on this planet.
Me.
I stroked her velvet skin; I kissed her lips and made her burn, with my sole focus being all about her and how I could make her feel. Once the passion faded, I was back in uncharted territory. I fumbled, trying to find a way to keep her with me, to hold off the ceasefire as long as I could.
I lift my hand above my face, the platinum band so strange wrapped around my finger.
I twist the ring in a circle, the bitterness burning in my chest. When I mentioned Sebastian as the only person she would talk to, her lack of response, posture, and the way she held her breath and turned away told me all I needed to know.
Her body language revealed everything to me that she would never express with words. She unknowingly fired the first bullet, and I, of course, fired back with all I had.
I drop my arms and they bounce heavily on the bed, my ring feeling like a weight on my hand.
Isabella may not love Sebastian; they have only met a few times, but he is the type of man she prefers. Funny, kind, and not at all like me, all hard and rough around the edges.
It’s written on her face when she gives me that blank stare, like she’s looking through me instead of at me, and it makes my stomach churn. I could be that for her if she would just stop her bullshit and get in line.
This way of life isn’t a game, and her father is determined to win at any cost. He sacrificed her to me, whether or not she realizes it, to achieve his own goals, and until Jasper returns and we learn the truth, I have to keep her close and take every precaution in case she is her father’s willing pawn in his game.
I get up and grab my bags, and take them to the closet. I hang up the garment bag and unzip it to take out my suit. Her white dress comes tumbling out, half of it pooling on the floor. I take it out and gather the dress in my hands.
She was so soft and warm in my arms as I undid every tiny pearl button, slowly revealing the soft skin underneath as I kissed her tender bruise. I breathe deeply as I bring the smooth silk to my nose. I groan when the aroma of lilies invades my nose.
I hang up her dress and then my suit beside hers. They hang side by side, motionless. Like us, lifeless puppets hanging there, neither of us knowing how to bring the other to life. I kick my duffle bag into the bottom of the closet and close the door.
I’m going to check in with Christopher at the club.
During my two weeks away, he’s been having far too much fun.
I collect my suit jacket off the bed and open the door to my bedroom.
Sasha is positioned outside Isabella’s room and I quickly shut my door, obscuring her view of the wreckage on my floor.
She looks at me, nods, and then looks down the corridor, avoiding eye contact.
“Make sure she eats her dinner and check in on her tonight, would you?” I try to keep the tension out of my voice. “She’s bull-headed and if she moves any more furniture around, she’s going to hurt herself.”
Sasha nods and I head down the stairs, turning right at the bottom to go to the kitchen. I swing open the door. Rose screams, and some little brunette drops a bowl of something white, and it splatters with a plop like a heavy water droplet, making a thick wave of goop all over the floor.
A deep sigh escapes my lips as I close my eyes. My mother and Sasha are the only women so far in my life that don’t flinch when I walk into a room.
“If you could send someone up to my room, I’ve knocked over a few things and there’s glass on my floor. Also, Isabella will take her meals in her room for the foreseeable future till I say otherwise.”
Rose nods, “Right away, sir.”
Backing out of the kitchen and heading to my office. I pop my head in, but Carlos isn’t there. I text him and he replies that he’s out by the pool.
I head out the back and he’s sitting on a lounge chair, looking into the water. I straddle the one beside him and plunk down a little too hard.
“What happened?” he mumbles as he cleans his nails with his knife.
“Nothing.” I chirp back too quickly. He looks up at me with those narrow eyes, the ones he uses when he knows I’m full of shit.
“Something is up. Isabella sits with her back to me, so I can’t see her in the rearview mirror anymore.
She makes sure she sits as far away from you as she can.
She refuses to take her phone back, which we know you put a tracker on.
It’s in your office on your desk, by the way.
She’s retreating into herself more than she was when she first arrived here. ”
I sit down again and rub my face with my hands. Even though it’s been less than 24 hours, I already hate being married.
Carlos flips his knife closed and puts it back in the holster.
“You seemed pretty pissed this morning. You two need to find some common ground soon, before one or both of you take this too far.”
I drop my hands and look at him. “I don’t know, man. We had a good night. Well, what you people would call a normal night, as normal as I can get, anyway.” I shake my head. “She still hasn’t spoken to me. We got to the hotel room, and I did what you guys said: be gentle, try to be nice. And I was!”
I rub my face once more.
“It wasn’t what I had expected, the sex, I mean.
She was free; she gave her body willingly, and for the first time in my life, it was mutual.
It was good. After we got up, she sat on my lap while I fed her dessert.
I tried to talk to her. I tried to ask her questions about what she liked.
Isabella never said a word, before, during, or after. She never says anything.”
I point at him and say, “You had a bigger conversation with her this morning than I have had since I met her. She refuses to talk to me. She nods or shakes her head when I ask her anything, or she runs away like a fucken four-year-old.”
Carlos looks back at his hands and picks his nails. “You need to try a quieter approach. She is like a skittish deer; you have to rein in that tempter and talk quieter and move more slowly. She won’t open up with force. She’ll only shut down even more.”
I sit straight up and glare at him now. “How much more can she shut down? She doesn’t fucken talk!” I bellow.
He points in my face. “That right there, brother, it will be your downfall with her.”
I sit up and swing my leg over the chair. Screw this, “I need to go to the club. Business awaits.” I stand up and button up my suit jacket. Carlos stands as well.
“Think you can find a few guys to take the Persian rug out of Isabella’s room? She rolled it up herself and dragged it into the bedroom.”
Carlos looks shocked. “She what? That thing weighs a ton.”
As we walk, I open the door and say over my shoulder, “I know. We had a bit of a misunderstanding this morning. I was checking on her with the camera and there she was, dragging the thing into the room. “
“I suppose you ran in there and helped the poor girl out like a hero, earning her everlasting admiration.”
“Not quite.” My chest hurts again and I rub it.
I leave the conversation there as we move through the house and down the front steps to get into the car. I’ll check on her later to see if she gets out of that art room and sleeps in her bed for once. She hasn’t spent a night in it since she moved into this house.
Again, I rub my face. I need to stop thinking about this…
I need to go to the club, have a drink and relax.
Somewhere I know, somewhere I feel stable and more like myself instead of this fucked up version of me I’ve been for the last week.
Tonight, I had no plans to go home. Maybe what we need is space for a fresh start.
If I’m not there to annoy her, we can both put down our guns for a while.
The smell of stale beer and vanilla hit me as I make my way into the bar. It’s hopping tonight. The dance floor is jumping and most of the tables are full. Marcus looks up over people’s heads as we approach.
He heads over to us, yelling over the drum of the crowd, “Welcome back!” I grab his fist and slap him on the shoulder.
I look around, yelling, “It’s busy. I’m happy to see you can hold it together while I’m gone.”
“Yeah, well, your brother runs a tight ship.” He thumbs over his shoulder at my office.